In the Days of Auld Lang Syne: Bonafide Rarity
by KnittingVamp7
Summary: Rosalie is the ice queen who owns the Unicorn Pub. She's got her reasons for her attitude, but will she melt enough to reveal them to Emmett McCarty? Part of the "In the Days of Auld Lang Syne" series, AH/AU, canon couples. M for language & maybe lemons.


**This ties in with JayneRulis' "Bold As Love," Feisty Y. Beden's "Fix You," Grendelsmother's "Attractive Nuisance," and Portia Khalo's "Counterpoint"**

**Hope you like this! It's been rolling in my head since the other stories began, but obstacles prevented posting until now. **

**This is Rosalie's POV of everything, so expect attitude and some foul language. There might be future limey-ness, maybe lemons, we'll see how it turns out.**

_**Twilight**_** isn't mine, neither are ShamWows, Mustangs, or BMWs. Anything else that isn't mine as well as the above listed belongs to their respective owners.**

**Thanks to supah beta Sarah for being supah awesome... and quick. ;)**

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I couldn't fucking believe it. Actually, I could. I'd told my father that he shouldn't have let the PR people hire that idiot, but they went ahead and hired him, and now he was in the news for assaulting a prostitute. Dad was convinced that this Vince guy's charisma would shoot his ShamWows to the top, and maybe he did, but I'd known the guy was a creeper from the start. His mug shot on Perez Hiltononly confirmed my instincts.

I sighed and closed the browser window before shutting down my computer. I would have loved to call my dad and tell him "I told you so," but I knew that he'd be pissed as it was without me exacerbating the situation. He'd be flipping out about now, wondering if this would tank the ShamWow and his profits.

Our family wasn't originally from money. My parents were honest folks who worked hard to make life comfortable for us. Mom was an elementary-school teacher and dad was head of maintenance at the local hotel and an incessant tinkerer; one day, necessity and inspiration combined, and he came up with a paper-towel substitute that didn't waste paper and was reusable. Hence, the ShamWow was born; once Dad heeded my pleas to be sensible and watch out for his investment, he'd let me patent the idea; shortly thereafter, he'd sold it to some German syndicate for a tidy sum, and now we possessed guaranteed rights to a percentage of all future profits. We were new money, thanks to the popularity of the ShamWow, and we'd managed to invest the profits well so that my parents could live comfortably but still remain humble.

I left my office and walked out to the bar area, carrying a notepad to make a list of what needed to be stocked for tonight. I'd opened the Unicorn Pub on my own, proving to everyone who knew me that I had the brains to make it without help. Most people who saw me assumed I was one of those stunning beauties who had everything offered to me on a silver platter and never lifted a finger in my life.

What they didn't know is that I never took anything that I didn't work for, ever. I was good at running the bar; but I could also outdrink most of my clientele without batting an eyelash, and I could take apart the engine to a '69 Mustang Shelby GT 500, clean it, and put it back together without any sort of assistance. I had Dad to thank for my interest in cars; it was his philosophy that I should be as self-sufficient as possible and shouldn't ever have to worry about mechanics fleecing me because they thought my pretty face hid a dumb girl. Cars were like puzzles that you could take apart and put together, all while making improvements to make them kickass. They were also my hobby. Some people read, knit or scrapbooked to relax; I worked on cars.

I took a look around the room to gauge how to hang the decorations so it would look decent for the New Year's party I was throwing this evening. The theme was "Party Happily Ever After"; I thought the storybook character-thing would dovetail nicely with the name of the pub, and to prove my commitment to the dress up angle, I was going as Little Bo Peep. Well, Little Bo Peep that had lost her sheep and decided that she'd rather run around half-naked in her newfound freedom than look for her herd. The skirt was almost illegally short, with those godawful ruffles under it to poof it out, and the bodice was low-cut and tight enough that my boobs defied gravity. The damn costume even came with ruffly bloomers, as if the Barely-Legal Peep thing wasn't obvious enough already.

I hated dressing that way, but I was a businesswoman and I had to play the game. I knew my assets and how to enhance them to work for me, so no matter how much I loathed it, I would appease the masses and hope that it served my business well. I was secretly excited and fortunate that one of my competitors, the Red Bar, had burned down to the ground just last night. Those Russian bitches deserved it, in my opinion, though I would never be the one to do that to their bar. Doesn't mean I didn't do a happy dance in the privacy of my office over their misfortune.

The Red Bar was where most of the college and twenty-something crowd liked to go, and that was the crowd I was aiming for. I got a fair share of that demographic, but now that the Red Bar was defunct, I was hoping those hipsters looking for a new watering hole in its absence remembered the Unicorn. The New Year's party was geared toward helping to expose the pub a little more.

I'd decided on a couple banners on the walls, one celebrating the new year and maybe another with the tag line for the night's theme. Jake, my bar back, was working on hanging a disco ball, the strands of twinkle lights waiting to be hung roped around his neck like some kind of _Blade-Runner_ lei. Nothing said party like a disco ball, right?

I'd met Jake Black at a car parts store in town one day while picking up fuses for my BMW M3. He was a Quileute from the reservation nearby, fresh from high school and going to the community college for auto-tech certification. He planned to open his own garage one day and seemed like a genuine nice guy, so I'd offered him a job bar-backing in the pub to help him pay his way through school. His goofy smile and puppylike enthusiasm were endearing, kind of like the little brother I'd never had. Well, "little" as in chronological age, at least; I classified my five-foot-nine self as pretty tall, but at six and a half feet of lean muscle, Jake towered over me, and his size came in handy whenever a handsy frat boy decided it was cool to harass me.

Don't get me started on frat boys. I put up with them because they were a bulk of my business, but I loathed them with a fiery passion. After that situation in college, I lost all respect for fraternities, no matter how noble their intentions for the community.

I pulled out my cell and dialed the number for the local radio station, KNND. "Thank you for calling KNND, The End, how may I direct your call?" a chipper female voice answered. I rolled my eyes.

"Rosalie Hale calling for Eric Yorkie, please," I replied, then waited while she put me on hold and I was subjected to the latest Top 40 boy-band hit.

"This is Yorkie. Talk to me, Rosalie," a male voice said, saving me from the prepubescent whining about losing a girlfriend. "You ready for the big shindig?"

"Just about, Eric," I began, setting my notepad on the bar and glancing at myself in the mirror. I definitely needed to catch a couple extra hours of sleep tonight. I looked a little worn. "I was just calling to confirm that you booked me a DJ for my New Year's party tomorrow night."

"You betcha, Rosalie. I'm sending you one of our most popular DJs," he replied.

"You did tell him that there was a theme and he was required to dress for it, right?" I'd paid a lot of money for airtime at the station; I didn't think it would be a big deal for the DJ to play along with the costume requirement.

"Yep. He knows. It's all squared away."

"Good. Thanks for your help, Eric," I said. After we said our goodbyes, I dialed my good friend Bella, who was making treats for the party. Bella was a kickass cook and made the best cupcakes I've ever had. It was only natural that she provided the goodies for the party.

"Just Desserts," I heard Bella's voice answer distractedly.

"Hey, Bella, it's Rose."

"Hey, Rose! What do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just making sure we're squared away for the New Year's party."

"You bet, babe. One giant, lemon-flavored unicorn cake for tonight. I'm putting the finishing touches on now," she replied, sounding more chipper.

"Awesome. Thanks so much, Bells. I gotta get stuff ready for tonight. I'll talk to you later?"

"Yep. I'll be there around five. Bye!" I tore the list from my notebook and handed it to my other good friend Alice, who had just arrived and was behind the bar, already starting to get things situated. She started barking at Jake to get her bottles from storage, and I had to smile at the sight of tiny, ethereal Alice bossing around Jake; it was like watching Little Red Riding Hood turn the tables on the Big Bad Wolf.

I wandered back to my office to get my game plan in order for the evening. I used my phone to track the shipment of liquor I'd ordered for tonight, my fingers clicking away. I heard the front door open and Jake talking to someone. I heard someone say something about DJing and realized it must be the guy Yorkie booked for me.

"Send them to my office, Jacob!" I hollered, still working on my Blackberry. I heard them come down the hall. "Good, you found us," I said without taking my eyes off the screen.

"Yeah, your directions were really good."

I finally finished my business on my phone and set it down, finally looking at them. "I'm Rosalie Hale."

There were three guys in my doorway. They all appeared to be in their early to mid-twenties, and just like with every other guy that passed through the pub, I couldn't help the reflexive look of distaste from flickering across my face. The one in the middle, whom I assumed was the DJ, was tall and rangy, with bronze hair in chaos; another was about the same build, with blonde hair in wild curls around his face; the third was taller and burly, definitely muscular, with short brown curls adorning his head. The big one looked like someone I'd have to keep my eye on. The blonde one seemed preoccupied with something down the hall, his body half in my office, half hanging out the door. The bronze-haired one looked nervous as he introduced himself.

"I'm Edward Cullen, the DJ from KNDD," he began, "and these are my friends Emmett McCarty and Jasper Whitlock." He gestured to each to discern the two. Emmett was the giant and Jasper was the blonde.

I gave Emmett a curt smile and picked up a flyer for the party, handing it to Edward. "Mr. Cullen?" He seemed distant, gazing back down the hall to the bar.

"Yes?"

"How long do you need to set up your gear?" I asked, becoming a little perturbed. Pay some fucking attention, son, you're getting _paid_ for this, so at least act a _little_ grateful for the opportunity.

"That depends on what I'll need. Can I see where I'll be staged?"

"Yes. Follow me." I stood and led them back out into the bar. Emmett seemed in awe of something, his mouth hanging open. Ten to one said he took one look at me and considered me a challenge, another conquest. If he didn't quit it, I'd get Jake on his ass in two seconds. I got a vibe from him that screamed "former frat boy" and that set me on edge. That Jasper fellow seemed to be entranced by Alice working behind the bar, but he didn't approach her. He just stared at her while walking with his friends.

I waved to the small stage area in the corner and Edward looked at it. I could see his brain calculating and working things out. I'd had new Harmon-Kordon speakers installed, digital tables set up and plugged into outlets, and a nice MacBook Air that I'd spent a pretty penny on to make his life easier. I had to remind myself that they were all business deductions every time I balanced my checkbook to help me deal. I'd figured that if he did a good job, I could try to convince him to be my regular DJ on the weekends or special occasions. He didn't say anything for a few minutes and I began tapping my toe impatiently. I still had stuff to do, and I didn't need to be waiting on this guy to take his sweet time drooling over the equipment.

"Nice. This should work well. I should be able to set up and do a sound check in two hours, max," he finally said, giving me a small smile.

"It should work well. I paid enough for it," I replied, giving him a small, tight smile. "Wrapping things up, Mr. Cullen—should we say five o'clock tomorrow?"

He could tell I was getting impatient and he gave a dry laugh. "Yeah, sounds great."

"Wonderful. Jake will see you out. Don't forget to wear a costume," I reminded him, turning to head back to my office.

"A what?" I heard him ask. He sounded bewildered.

"A costume. It's a fairy tale-themed costume party. No costume, no admittance." I said, tapping the flyer in his hand. His bewildered look turned to surprise when Emmett snatched the paper from his hands.

"You've done a lot with this place, Miss Hale," he said admiringly, speaking for the first time. Edward was agape now, completely flabbergasted by his friend's behavior.

"Yes, I have," I replied, softening a little. This pub was my baby; I was damn proud of it.

"I've met a client or two here...Totally blew out this wall and that wall... nice. Opened it right up, lightened the wood trim. The sports memorabilia is gone...that's a shame," he finished, shaking his head sadly.

"No, it's not. It's part of the sports pub on the second floor," I replied smugly. This wasn't _just_ the hip new bar that attracted the college crowd. It also brought in some sports fans that were looking for someplace new to cheer on their teams.

"Very nice. If you'd like, I could probably get some jerseys that have been signed for you," Emmett offered.

"I might take you up on that." I turned a calculating look on Emmett before asking, "Obviously you're expecting something in return?"

Emmett shrugged modestly. "Is it all right if my friend and I tag along with Edward to your shindig? I just can't help but want to be a part of something that you put so much hard work into."

"Just come in costume," I said with a sly smirk. He might not be quite the idiot frat boy I'd initially assumed he was.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he replied, nodding his head and flashing his dimples at me. Must have been his "panty dropper" look, and annoyance flashed through me before I squashed it.

"Gentlemen, I have to finish up here and start up for the night. JAKE!" I yelled. Jake appeared from the storage closet down the hall and I got a little satisfaction at Edward jumping slightly at the sight of Jake. "If you would, please escort Mr. Cullen and his two acquaintances out so we can prep the house." I turned and headed back to my office to the sound of Jake introducing himself to the men as he led them out.

I sat behind my desk with a sigh, murmuring to myself, "I love my job. I love my job. This all makes it worth it. I love my job." I stared at my costume hanging next to my door, smiling at the unicorn tennis shoes on the floor beneath it. Fuck if I was wearing heels in _that_ getup all night long.

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